You're not how I thought
by Yuyake no Okami
Summary: Mike discovered that the five kids' killer is held in a criminal asylum right outside his hometown, and decides to meet the man that started his nightmare. But he is way different from what he had expected... (Au in where Vincent is not dead, can be interpreted as Purple Guy x Phone Guy... or not. It's up to you. Used to be a oneshot, now a series of oneshots)
1. The murderer and its demons

A/N: Ok, lately I'm obsessed with Five Nights at Freddy's. I felt like writing an oneshot.

It's an AU, in which Purple Guy (I'm going to refer to him as Vincent. The name stuck into my head, and I know I would probably end up calling him that anyway, so...) didn't die, but got arrested and condemned to remain in jail till the end of his days (dunno the correct name for that, 'm sorry).

Also, yeah. Phone Guy is called Scott, but not because of Rebornica this time: I started calling him that in my mind way before discovering that AU, as Scott Cawthon himself voiced him. As we don't know his canonical name, I prefer to call him with his dubber name.

I'm using my own theory about the whole "children possession" thing. Basically, the animatronics are haunted, but they are not possessed: they are sentient, but the ghosts cause them to bug everytime they see a night guard, as a petty revenge toward Vincent, who had worked on the night shift for a while. In this story, however, Mike managed to make them understand that he isn't an endoskeleton, and so now the spirits can't bring them to hurt him anymore (yes, I support the friendship between the night guards and the robots. I hate myself).

No warnings aside for the obvious references to violence and something you may see as Phone guy x Purple guy... I think... I mean, you can interpret that both as a romance and a platonic friendship. It's up to you.

* * *

You're not how I thought

Mike had no idea why he was doing this. Visiting a serial killer in a criminal asylum. But he felt like he had to.

He was the one who had started it. The man who had killed them.

The five kids.

He gulped nervously as the nurse, a redhead on her forties, told him to follow her.

The woman stopped in front of a white door. "He's in there. Do you want me to follow you in?"

Mike shook his head. He felt that he had to do this alone. "Is he... dangerous?" He asked with an unsteady voice.

The nurse shrugged. "He always behaved in the last years. He's still a mentally unstable murderer, though... so be careful."

The twenty years old nodded, wide-eyed.

The ginger knocked on the door. "Vincent? There's visits for you."

Without waiting for an answer, she opened the door, and Mike stepped inside.

Xxx

He sincerely had no idea what to expect, when he entered the asylum for the first time.

Scars? Tattoos? Earrings and a crooked nose, maybe?

Certainly all but... that.

A young man that couldn't be older than thirty-five, with hair so dark it looked blueish in a loose ponytail, some facial hair on his chin and bright green eyes looked at him in surprise.

"Hey, you're not Scott!"

Mike blinked. What? "Uh-what?"

The man huffed, an " _are you stupid or what"_ look on his face. "Scott. Scott Cawthon. You know, freakishly tall, lanky, raven-haired, eyeglasses... when they told me there were visits from Freddy's I thought instantly of him. He used to visit me from time to time, but lately..." he frowned, an almost pitiful expression on his face.

He looked back at Mike. "Who are you, anyway?"

The younger man bit his lower lip. "I'm Mike. I work at Freddy's-"

"-I already know that-"

Mike ignored the sarcastic interruption "-as a night guard."

The attitude of the man changed instantly. "What? Night guard? What happened to Scott?" He asked, eyes wide in confusion.

That name, again. Was this Scott a friend of this guy?

He shrugged. "Beats me. Anyway, I'm here to ask you something."

When Vincent tilted his head in silent waiting, Mike gulped. "Why... why did you kill those kids?" He asked, uncertainly.

Vincent sighed, his eyes directed toward the white floor. "Because I was scared."

The night guard stared in the other's eyes, not seeing a gram of insincerity in his green gaze. "What do you mean?"

The man smiled sadly. "I know I did something horrible, as much as I know I'm not..." he hesitated, as if searching for the right word "...I know I'm not normal. But it's a long story."

 _flashback_

 _Vincent hated kids._

 _They were loud, annoying... and cruel. His whole childhood had proved that. The only kid he never hated was Scott, his best, his only friend._

 _Then why, why was he working at Freddy's? Better yet, why was he wearing that ugly, creepy and even dangerous if not used properly spring suit?_

 _Oh, right. He was broke, and his parents were more than happy to free themselves of the dead weight of a mentally disturbed son._

 _So, yeah. He needed the money._

 _As he walked around, a half dozen of kids following him everywhere he went, he saw Scott, in his clean uniform, talking quietly to one of the other guards. He wanted to wave to him, he wanted to wave so bad, but he knew he couldn't. The springs of his costume couldn't stand quick movements, and if he tried to do so... it could close on him. He shuddered in terror, and had to refrain himself from exhaling heavily. Even that could kill him._

 _He smiled under his mask as Scott noticed him anyway and waved at him with a grin. Obviously, it wasn't that difficult to see a big, yellow-green humanoid rabbit._

 _Scott was so different than him: he was a nice and overly friendly person that loved his job, loved kids, and more than once he'd said that he preferred spending time with them than with the parents, "always judging people by the color of their skin, who they love or in what god they believe in instead of what kind of people they actually are". And yet, they were best friends._

 _They had met at school, at eight years old. He was the new kid in the class, and had immediately spotted the child sitting all alone in the darkest corner of the room. After an hour or so, he'd found the courage to talk to him, using the excuse of not being able to resolve a math exercise to get under his skin forever._

 _And damn, he did. Vincent soon discovered that Scott didn't care about his paranoia, all his phobias, his explosive intermittent disorder... he didn't ignore them, he didn't deny that he had problems, lots of problems, and he reminded him to take his medicines when he didn't. But he wasn't scared by them. He didn't think any less of him because he was ill._

 _Vincent loved him for that._

 _And, when he was hired at Freddy's, he had followed him to help him, because he knew he was the only one that could prevent him from snapping._

 _Scott was such a wonderful person._

 _Lost in his thoughts, Vincent didn't hear a little voice addressing him, getting more and more annoyed. He almost didn't feel the kid's small hands pushing him as violently as they could, but he definitely felt when hundreds of springs cut his skin, muscles, cartilage._

 _He screamed._

 _Xxx_

 _Months had passed, and Vincent was finally starting to heal from his mental trauma. He had almost bleed to death, but they had got him in time. The springs, thankfully, hadn't cut anything vital (he might or not might had become sterile, but he sure as hell wasn't complaining). Before he knew it, he stopped having nightmares about killer suits, and the doctor told him that he was ready to go back to work._

 _Returning at Freddy's was harder than what he originally thought, lots of bad memories coming back to him as he entered the place, but he consoled himself by remembering that Scott swore that everything would be alright._

 _And, although he refused to enter again in the Spring Bonnie (he now called it "Springtrap"), for some time it was. He had become a security guard, and he felt better in this role than in any other he ever had._

 _Then, he came back._

 _At first, he wasn't sure what it was, but something with that kid's face bothered him. Then, when the child asked him if he knew where the yellow bunny was, he recognized him._

 _He was the one who had pushed him. The one who had almost killed him._

 _He became paranoid. The nightmares started again, every night he would wake up feeling the sharp metal springs closing on his body._

 _He didn't tell his fears to Scott: for some reason, he was sure he couldn't understand._

 _The kid was back. He wanted to finish the job. He hadn't killed him the first time, he would now._

 _When he showed up with four friends, he felt like his suspicions had just been confirmed._

 _They spent all day in the restaurant, and in his mind, distorted by terror, began to form itself a plan._

 _He would react. Before they could kill him,_ he _would._

 _However, he needed to look friendly, trustworthy to lure them inside the parts/service room._

 _The answer was simple._

 _Spring Freddy._

 _Also known as Golden Freddy for his color, it was the other spring suit in the restaurant, aside for Springtrap._

 _He shook his head. He refused to wear one of those darned things ever again._

But it's your best bet _whispered a sly voice in his head._

 _But what if it closed on him like the other?_

You can still remove the endoskeleton... it will be harder to move, but not impossible _continued the voice, charming._

 _He smiled slightly, relieved. Yeah, it was a good plan._

 _Xxx_

 _Everything was red._

 _He was red, the floor was red, the kids were red... and so were the insides of the animatronics, where they'd been stuffed._

 _He felt relieved._

 _However, a small part of him knew, when he saw Scott's terrified face, that he'd done something unforgivable._

 _Xxx_

 _Scott was crying, desperate sobs shaking all his 2,02 meters of height._

 _Maybe he was crying too, but he wasn't sure._

 _He felt betrayed, as the cops handcuffed him, and nauseous, but he also wanted to hug him, hug his only friend, his anchor, asking for forgiveness until his tears stopped falling._

 _He thought back to all the times Scott had defended him against the bullies, invited him to have a sleepover even though his parents weren't exactly fond of him, held him after waking up from his disturbed nightmares._

 _And he realized that this time, he had fucked up too bad to make things okay again with a playful scolding._

 _End flashback_

Mike stared, speechless, at the man in front of him.

Before coming here, he'd thought a lot about the motive for the slaughter: he'd even thought about things like pure sadism or pedophilia... but he wasn't expecting this. The man he had in front of him was broken, tormented endless by his mistakes. Even his best friend had left him, though from the description he didn't sound like the kind of person who would-

Whoa whoa. Wait a sec.

"Vincent?"

"Yes?" The man looked at him, head inclined in confusion.

"Scott... Scott was a night guard?" Mike asked, a doubt starting to enter his mind.

Vincent nodded, still looking lost. "Yes, I told you."

"For some time or just a night?"

The man tilted his head again, deep in though. "For quite some years... if I'm not mistaken, he was moved there shortly after the Bite. I myself worked some nights as a night guard, but then..." He pointed to the chair he sat on, a small smile on his lips.

Oh God.

"... Can I ask you a question?"

Vincent shrugged. "You already did. One more or one less..."

Mike gulped. "When... when did he visit you the last time?"

Vincent looked away. "Five months ago. I haven't heard anything from him since July, not even a phone call." He... pouted? Yes. He pouted. "Not nice of him."

Mike felt his blood run cold.

Five months.

He'd been working at Freddy's since five months.

Phone Guy had died five months before.

Oh. My. God.

"C-can I call someone?" Asked the blue-eyed young man.

The murderer shrugged again. "The phone is yours, and I'm not here to stop you."

xxx

"Boss, I need a favor."

" _You can't have a raise in pay."_

Mike sighed at his employer's antics. "No, it's not that. I need to know the name of the person who worked as a night guard before me."

" _What? Why would you need that?"_ Alan, his boss, sounded genuinely perplexed. Mike couldn't sincerely blame him.

"I think I met someone who knows him."

Silence.

"Boss?"

" _Yeah, I'm still here. I... I see."_

There was another moment of silence, before a sigh was heard.

" _His name is... was Scott. Scott Cawthon. Such a nice boy... he'd been working here at Freddy's since he was eighteen, in the '87. Ironic they got him two days before quitting..."_

Mike stared at the wall blankly.

" _Mike...?"_

Scott was Phone Guy.

Xxx

"...Vincent?"

The man looked up from his nails. "Hey there. All done?"

Mike nodded.

"Vincent, I... think I have to tell you something."

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "What's with that face?"

"Scott didn't forget you. He... he died three days before I started working at Freddy's."

xxx

When he'd entered the asylum, he didn't think he would end up visiting a grave with a serial killer, but there he was, patting Vincent's shoulder as he sobbed quietly, wiping the tears that fell off his eyes with the cuffed hands.

They had obtained the permission to go to the graveyard as soon as the nurse started crying hearing the story. Even if they were constantly followed by an armed guard, and the man was handcuffed, it was still something.

To be honest, Mike wasn't there only for Vincent. As much as the heartbreaking story had moved him deeply, he was there also for himself.

Scott was Phone Guy. Phone Guy was Scott.

That man had saved him. He had saved him by risking his own life. And then he had died. His only help and company during those nights.

He knelt near the other man, and put the small bouquet they had bought on the way on the ground.

"Thank you, Scott."

* * *

A/N: I think this ended up being a bit more shippy than how I expected, but I think it was fairly nice. Also, as I already said, you can interpret it as friendship. You can get really lovey-dovey with your friends, if you don't have many of them, I know this for a fact...

Anyway.

One thing I both love and hate about English, is the word "love". It's so ambiguous, don't you think? I mean, if someone says "I love you" you can never be sure if they mean in a platonic or romantic way. In Italian we have different words and verbs for that, so I often find myself thinking that a phrase I just wrote sounds too romantic or not enough. Though, it can be useful when you want it to be ambiguous... Hm.

Also... OH MY GOD ANGSTY SHIT WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME. If you wish for fluffier stuff, just tell me, I have a half idea of writing the moment where Scott and Vincent meet.

 **My Fnaf headcanon:**

Vincent: sassy and flirty when he's not freaking out

Scott: the "mom" 2,02 meters tall

Mike: a big softie with Zuko's sense of honor

Jeremy: disgustingly selfless like really dude stop sacrificing yourself

Fritz: Ivan Braginski just really short, ginger, with glasses and a passion for computers. What's not to love?


	2. Green-eyed monster

A/N: _Well, fuck me sideways with a rusty teaspoon_. People like my shit. You asked for it, this is gonna become a oneshot series.

Dedicated to all those who appreciated my last oneshot, this one is set into another AU, basically the contrary of the last one: Scott managed to survive the capture, and now works at Fazbear's Fright, while Vincent got "springtrapped" (Scott didn't therefore see Vincent killing the kids). As the last one, this is not necessarily to be interpreted as a shipping fic, but if you wish then you can. I know I will. Purple Phone is one of my (L)OTPs after all. Don't judge me, in my AU it kind of makes sense.

This time, I'm trying to write from a first person POV. Set 20 years after Fnaf 1 (that in my headcanon was set in 2002), Scott is 54, Dave Taylor is Phone Dude, Kevin Rodney is the night guard of Fnaf 3 and they are both 21. Pole-Bear's ds. Enjoy.

(Also yes, with this timeline Scott and Vinny were both 15 in the '83. I know they theoretically shouldn't have been working at the time, but since in this game they had animatronics with facial recognition and tablets in the '87, your argument is invalid).

* * *

Green-eyed monster

I don't remember much, of the "accident". Pain, a lot of it, and warm, dense liquid covering me. The person who saved me, a nice guy called Mike, says I was in a terrible state, when he found me inside the Freddy suit, before proceeding to hug the life out of me like I was some kind of Teddy Bear. Um, wait. Bad similitude, he he.

I can't help but wonder if that's what Vincent experienced, when Spring Bonnie closed on him that time in the '83. The very idea is horrifying.

… I miss him. I have no idea of where he disappeared, sincerely. All I know is that I haven't heard of him since I woke up from the coma. Poor Vincent. He's so frail... Don't get me wrong, he's one of the strongest people I know, it must be incredibly difficult to hold yourself together with all the disturbs he has. At the same time, however, it feels like the faintest whisper can shatter him. He more than once told me that I was the only reason he hadn't done something drastic yet, and it makes me worry. But nobody seems to know where he is, and I don't know what to do. For a while, I settled at Mike's.

He's really kind. Mike, I mean. He offered me a place to stay until I could afford paying for my own apartment. Though, not many people are willing to hire someone who seems like he ended up in a fistfight with Freddy Kruger or however you spell it, so I end up returning at his place basically every month. Well, the truth isn't that far from it, after all. I _did_ have a fight with Freddy. Just not that one.

Anyway, after twenty years, three of which spent like a male Sleeping Beauty at the hospital, the others trying to heal completely and find a stable occupation, I finally found a job that hopefully won't throw me out because I scare the customers. And, irony of life, I'm a night guard. At a horror attraction. Inspired by what happened at Freddy's.

Well, at least there are not killer animatronics in there, freely roaming at night.

I hope.

xxx The first night xxx

I just discovered that my employer, a certain Dave Taylor, is my nephew. It's nice to know that Hannah got married and had a child. Kevin, his best friend and co-worker of mine, says that he looks just like me, just dark-skinned and without glasses. And shorter.

Well, Hannah and I always looked a lot like each other, after all. A lot of people thought we were twins.

That makes no sense, because we would've had to be heterozygous, and heterozygous twins rarely look alike that way...

But, yeah. I am rambling.

Meeting him in person is weird. He does look a lot like my sister, to be honest.

Maybe one of these days I might try asking him his mother's address. Hopefully I won't look like a total freak.

Back to the original subject, the place is terrifying. Maybe it has this effect on me because I worked at the true thing, but I think that's not all of it. People often say I'm as sweet as strawberry icing, but I've never been a scaredy cat. If I had been, I wouldn't have managed to cope with Vincent as a best friend for twenty-five years.

There's something deeply disturbing with this place, and it's not just the flickering lights, the Foxy-lamp (Foxy, nuuuuu), the Freddy endoskeleton near the door (who's the endo now, huh? No, okay, sorry, that wasn't funny) or the audio of Balloon Boy's voice that made me jump ten meters in the air the first time I heard it (heard enough from Jeremy to know what the wannabe Pinocchio did). No, these things are all _meant_ to be scary, this is a horror attraction after all. No, working at Freddy's teaches you that the things you should fear are the ones that appear to be inoffensive.

I have this... feeling. That something is gonna happen, one of these nights.

I don't know.

I'll see.

If worse comes to worse, I know I'll have to fight.

Against what, though, I have no idea.

Xxx

"This place is spooky" shivers Kevin, looking at the cameras. I agree, as I move to reboot the air system. I ignored it once, and I swear I will never see Balloon Boy the same way. Ever. Again.

"So... you told me you worked at Freddy's? Like, the real one?" He asks, after a while of mildly awkward silence.

I smile. "Yep. I worked at all the locations. For a while, even at the first one, Fredbear's Pizzeria, in the '83."

He looks at me, and I almost burst out laughing at his awed face.

"Wow, really?! And how was it?"

I chuckle awkwardly. "Well, I guess you could say it was... the farthest thing from boring."

The blonde grins at me. "Don't torment me, man. _Details_."

I grin too, as I point to the beaten up Freddy outside our office. "Let's just say I met that fellow and his friends up close more than once."

We keep chatting, and the six am bell lets us know our shift is over without anything having happened.

Xxx The second night xxx

 _We found one. A real one._

"Scott? Everything okay buddy?"

I shake myself out of my daze, Dave's words still resonating menacingly. Kevin is looking at me worriedly, and I realize I've been staring at the phone for five minutes with my eyes about to fell out my sockets.

"You're as pale as a ghost, man! You okay?" He asks again, and I shakily nod.

Calm down, Scott. It's only an animatronic. You've dealt with worse before. Also, it's been twenty years: it most likely cannot even move from all the rust.

I smile hesitantly. "I-I-yeah. I'm okay. Just, give me that tablet."

He hands me the screen, and I almost fall off the chair as I see a known figure in the cameras.

I shriek.

An animatronic is standing in the hallway.

Staring.

At us.

Well, time to freak out I guess.

Xxx

"Buddy! Buddy, it's okay! It's just an animatronic! Calm down!"

'Just an animatronic'. Does he know what he just said? You can't just say something like that to a Freddy's employee. You. Can't.

I grab the tablet hastily, and search for the... thing.

It's not there anymore.

"Fuck!" I screech, going against every single fiber of my character as I look desperately for it.

Kevin stares at me, puzzled and a bit scared by my outburst. "What's going on?"

I grab his shoulder, and look at him with what I''m sure is the look of somebody who just saw the Grim Reaper pointing at them with a "eat shit" grin. "You don't understand, Kev. All those guards that disappeared... the Bite of the '83 and the one of the '87... my scars, Kevin! My scars!" I let out a shaky breath. "...After midnight, those things are the last beings you want to be near to!"

xxx

Look at the cameras.

Spot the animatronic.

Play the audio to distract it.

Be attacked by some kind of ghost animatronic.

Reboot the systems.

Recover from an hallucination.

Do it all again.

The night goes on like this, and I don't relax for a moment until I hear the bell of six am. I bolt out of the door with Kevin as soon as I hear it being opened by Dave, almost hitting the poor guy in the process.

"Whoa! Hey there dude, who lit your panties on fire?" He looks at us, and grimaces. "Ew, did you both piss yourself?"

Still shaken, Kevin and I look at each other. As a matter of fact, we did.

Kevin looks at my nephew, eyes as big as saucers. "Dave " he says "we have to talk."

xxx

It takes a bit to explain him what happened.

When we finish, his cheerful expression is replaced by a frown, out of place on his usually happy go luck face.

"This is absurd, and crazy as balls. And I believe you. After all" he smiles tiredly at me "the first thing my mom's bro did after waking up from a coma was asking where was the evil yellow bear."

I blush lightly. I never liked Golden Freddy, or Fredbear as it used to be called.

He sits heavily, sighing. "But I fear that, if there's really a killer robot on the loose, I'll have to ask you to return there tonight."

Before we can reply, he waves his hands dismissively. "Obviously, I am not asking you to go alone. I'm coming with you. But we can't let that thing wander out that place, and we can't scrap it without the apposite papers, and, judging by your story, it's not worth getting our criminal records dirty: you managed to keep it away without many problems, didn't you? Still, until we get permission to demolish the animatronic, it's still dangerous."

I guess I see his point. It makes sense, actually. However...

"No." I exclaim. Dave looks at me, surprised.

"Wait, what?"

"Dave, we need those papers filled up as soon as possible, and if I know something about bureaus, it will take one week at the very least. If the only one of us that actually has a some experience with this kind of thing comes with us instead of focusing on it, it will take a lot more. Also, we only need to keep an eye on the cameras and the rebooting system: a third person is not strictly necessary."

He looks alternately between me and Kevin, unsure.

"Kev? You okay with it bro?" He asks, after a moment.

The twenty-one years old nods. "Scott is right. Also, if all the nights will be like this, we'll be fine " he smiles, encouragingly.

I can't help but wonder, if it will really be this easy.

Xxx The third night xxx

As I suspected, tonight the animatronic is way more active than yesterday.

I know who I am dealing with, sweetie. Can't take my by surprise.

However, as long as we keep rebooting the systems, we will be fine. There's no power limit, and thankfully the truly dangerous animatronic is only one in this location.

The hallucinations, however, are annoying.

After meeting face to face with a burned down Puppet (ugh), I decide to hand Kevin the cameras and take the system by myself.

I always hated the Puppet.

It takes me a while to realize that the boy next to me hasn't played the audio in a disturbingly long time.

Xxx

"You should play the audio, you know?" I ask out loud, as I check to see if there is an audio error.

"I can't find it."

"Come on Kev, you're supposed to be better at this than me! The button is right there!" I chuckle.

He gulps. "Not the button. I can't find _the robot_."

I freeze instantly.

"Give me the cameras."

He does so, and I start searching desperately for it, even though I know I risk triggering an hallucination this way.

It's nowhere to be seen.

 _Nowhere._

We're so dead.

I spot an icon I hadn't noticed before right as I hear a weird sound. I press it and my eyes are graced by an image of one of the vents.

And in said vent there's the animatronic.

I let out a high-pitched shriek, the kind Vincent would've teased me about non-stop (Jesus I miss him too much for my own good), and tap desperately the camera's icon, reading that doing so seals the vents.

The seal closes with a dull _thud_ and I let out a relieved sigh, closing my eyes for a moment.

Huge mistake.

I don't really know what happens next. I just hear the same shuffling sound from before and the camera frizzles with static. A moment later, the robot is gone.

Well, just _great._

As I look for it again, I can't help but wish that thing to burn down in a fire. I loved those animatronics when Freddy's was still open, but now it would be so nice if they just decided to stop trying to kill me and kindly _fuck the right off_ , since they don't have a reason to exist anymore.

Seriously.

When I can't find him after thirty-eight seconds, I start to freak out yet again.

And then I look up, and I freak out for good.

Because it's in front of the office, peering through the window.

Xxx

"Scott" Kevin whines, tears starting to come out of his eyes. I pat his shoulder in what I hope is a reassuring move, not moving my eyes from the thing's.

It's like a game of green light red light. If you stare at them, they don't move.

Aside for Foxy, but this one is not Foxy.

"Kev" I whisper, hooping it can't understand or hear me. Fat chance, but oh well. "Play the audio. Maybe its programming will overlook the fact that we're here."

"What?"

"The animatronics were programmed to go where people were, remember?"

"Yeah...?"

"If you manage to play the audio in a near room, it might go away to check. We did this until now, remember?"

Kevin breathes heavily and takes the tablet.

Too.

Much.

Tension.

 _Hello?_

He played the audio.

The animatronic's good ear (the other is severed in half) twitches, but it stays still, staring at me with unnerving green eyes.

 _I know those eyes._

Since it seems like it doesn't want to move anytime soon, I decide to observe it better. It's not an old and decaying Bonnie, like I thought: the fur, although battered and stained of... something -ugh, please, let it be tomato sauce- is definitely yellow, maybe even golden.

I recognize it with a start.

"Springtrap?" I squeak, and its... Springtrap's, ears waggle slightly, as if in recognition.

A chime plays, and it freezes, as Dave unlocks the door and we run outside.

I stop for a second to look behind me. The robot hasn't made a move toward us, but his head is turned toward me.

 _I know those eyes._

Xxx The fourth night xxx

This is not normal.

It's just the fourth night, the animatronic -no, Springtrap- shouldn't be this ferocious!

To be honest, it simply shouldn't be active at all: Springtrap isn't like the other robots. It was built in the '83, and both it and Fredbear lacked any sort of free will, or personality chip, or AI. They were simply mindless mechanical dolls.

The only time you could see them moving around was when somebody wore them as suits.

But then why, why is this thing moving? Trying to kill us?

Is it because of the kids?

… I tried so hard to be logical, in my life. It was one of the reasons for the breakup between me and my parents: my skepticism toward anything mystical clashed horribly with their deep connection with religion. Therefore, the very idea that the weird behavior of the animatronics could be caused by the spirits of the murdered kids had crossed my mind only once, and I had quickly forgot about it.

However...

… Can it...?

I shake it out my mind to focus on what I'm doing. This is not the right moment to fantasize about dead kids.

Wait, no, that sounded so wrong.

I play the audio, right after Springtrap changes room.

It's not working.

Kevin gulps. "It finally understood our game, didn't it?"

I don't want to agree, but there's little doubt about what is going to happen.

I see the robot actually moving.

I didn't die the fourth night of twenty years ago, I'm going to die tonight.

Taking Kevin with me.

I grit my teeth in frustration. This is so unfair. I can deal with the idea of dying. I was fine with it at thirty-four, I am fine with it now. But Kevin? He's barely a man: he became able to drink just a few months ago.

I look at the clock. 5:45 am.

"Run, Kev."

He looks at me, wide-eyed. "What?!"

I don't answer, and bolt toward the door of the office.

Xxx

It doesn't take long to find myself in front of the animatronic.

It's tall. It's more or less of my same height, and that's saying something since I'm 2.02 meters tall. I pant heavily, and my glasses are about to fell off my face.

It simply stands there, watching me with those glowing green eyes.

"Well? Are you just going to stare at me?" I ask, hoping to buy Kevin some time. I flinch when it raises its arms.

It doesn't attack me. Instead, its hands start making weird signs in the air.

My eyes widen in recognition. Sign language?

" _Want me just look?"_ It signs.

"You know sign language?" I ask, cautious. Springtrap nods, slowly.

" _Bad but yes. Want look? Want talk?"_

I relax a bit despite myself. My cousin, Carson, was deaf. The guy was a jerk to be honest, but I learned the Sign Language anyway thanks to him.

"Don't you want to kill me?" The robot almost seems to flinch.

" _No kill you. Remember you. Others no care, just want destroy things. You care. You good."_

"What do you mean? And, can't you talk normally?"

" _Can not. No air, no throat, no nothing. Hurts."_ It -he?- tilts his head. _"And you good. Springs fail, much blood, you care. Others no. Others want blood to go out only in dark room. No health men. You call them. Others no."_

It takes me a bit to understand what he means. "Are- are you talking about Vincent? The spring accident?"

He nods. _"Yes. Can not kill you."_

Sudden anger spreads through me. "Are you telling me it's okay for you killing the others?"

" _Can not do different."_ His eyes, if possible, get sad. _"Get angry. Can not think. Need to get free."_

I look at him. Get free? What-

And then, I notice the weird red wires that peek from the holes of its suit. They don't look really like wires. More like... arteries...

I walk slowly near him. He doesn't react.

I don't stop until I'm right in front of him, my eyes on a bigger hole than the others on his chest. Inside that hole... there's what looks suspiciously like a human hearth.

I place a hand on his shoulder, and I feel it shudder lightly. I raise my other hand to his mouth, and I open it slowly.

I let out an acute cry as I see a human skull covered in rotting flesh and pierced by metal spears.

A deep chuckle comes out of Springtrap's throat as I stumble backwards. _"That is girl scream. You girl scream."_

My eyes get even wider than before. "Y-you" I stutter, breathlessly.

" _Now we of same height, Scott!"_ Signs Vincent's soul from inside Springtrap's body.

* * *

A/N: Oneshot, Y u so long and inconclusive?

Also, yeah. In my headcanon there were two bites: the one of the '83, made by Fredbear, and the one made by Foxy in the '87.

Anyway, now Vincent and Scott are of the same height because I think that Springtrap had stilts in its legs. This way, both short and tall people could use the suit. (Vinny is about 1.86 meters tall).


	3. It started with math problems

A/N: Wanted to write this for a while. Basically, how my Scott met my Vincent.

Warning: shameless fluff. As usual, can be interpreted as romance _or_ as a platonic, sappy, bromancey friendship.

Sappy friendships are the best.

This one is dedicated to my cousin and to my moriail. I would dedicate it also to SP3TTR0 (if you like The Legend of Zelda and steampunk have a look at his story), but he doesn't like FNaF, so... yeah. Whatever.

(On a separate note, I changed my headcanon of FNaF quite a bit since my first oneshot. Nothing big concerning Scott and Vinny here, but please ignore the headcanon note at the endo of the first chapter of this story.)

* * *

It started with math problems

I never, ever liked my psychologist. Always pretending to know what life puts me through, always telling me that he understood how I felt... let me tell you, he knew _nothing_.

Half of the "problems" I had, were caused by how my parents treated me, not by some weird... self-inflicted penalty or whatever shit he came up with. I don't remember half of it, for how idiotic it was. Why do you think I would spend eight years of my life terrified by the idea of people knowing my disturbs and therefore keeping everybody away?

And put away that phone. No need to call the social services. First of all, I'm legal now, I've been for a while. Hell, for all I know, when you'll be reading this thing, I might be dead since hundreds of years (if this is the case, I seriously hope humanity has been destroyed and chickens have taken over the world)! Secondarily, my parents loved me, and I loved them. They didn't mistreat me or anything. They just had that awkward way of dealing with me. Have you ever witnessed somebody telling their friends that they have cancer, or are gay, or whatever else? Ninety percent of the times, you'll see the others still caring about them, but now being more embarrassed every time they talk to them.

Yeah, that's the relationship between me and my parents.

Anyway, the fact is: because of the terrible attitude we all had in my family, I never had a friend.

Until I turned eight, at least.

 _***6th of September, 1976***_

It had been a day like any other for Vincent. It was his birthday, but he didn't expect anyone but his parents to whish him a nice day.

It wasn't like anybody else knew.

To anyone else, it would've been depressing, but Vincent was used to it. He hadn't ever known any different, why would he be depressed by it?

So, he didn't expect anything weird to happen, that day.

Little did he know, that was the day his life would change so drastically.

xxx

There was a new student.

Vincent didn't really care. He probably was like any other kid in there, nosy, annoying and cruel. And, even if he wasn't, he wouldn't want to be friends with a freak like him, would he?

His parents always told him. Not that he was a freak, God forbid, just that people didn't like... well, people didn't like mental illnesses, especially the ones he suffered from. Schizophrenia, explosive intermittent disorder, paranoia... He had learned soon enough that people were scared, _terrified_ by them. So, why bother making friends, when they would just abandon you like a dog during summer holidays at the first breakdown?

No use in helping them crush your own heart.

So, when the famed new kid came into class, he intended to only look at him uninterested for a few seconds, before going back to drawing on his desk. Instead, he found himself lingering just a bit longer on the newbie's form. He was scrawny and chubby at the same time, the way only eight-years old kids can, with messy black hair, just like him. His eyes, however, were behind a big pair of glasses, and were, instead of Vinny's leaf green, of a pretty blue-grey, like a Chartreux cat. A blush was quickly forming itself on his cheeks, and a tentative smile was barely visible on his face.

Some of the girls snickered to themselves at the sight. A new victim for the bullies? Most likely, judging the way he fidgeted and blushed nervously.

That wasn't what he had expected to see, that's for sure. Usually, the "juniors" (at least the male ones) made their best effort to look though and cool. This one just looked like a gigantic nerd.

"This, kids, is Scott. Come on, greet him!" Exclaimed the teacher.

A chorus of "Hi Scott" echoed and, for once, Vincent was almost tempted to join.

Almost.

xxx

"Vincent?"

In all response, the boy growled. "What."

Obviously, the kid had ended up in the desk near his.

Obviously, Vincent had done his best to ignore him.

Obviously, Scott had made it impossible.

Not even a hour after the first period, the new boy had started to pester him. Apparently, he had been wrong about Scott being a nerd, for he couldn't solve a math problem to save his own life.

"Can you help me with this exercise?"

Exactly.

Grumbling, Vincent took the paper, quickly looking at it. Unlike the bespectacled boy, he was really good at math.

He furrowed his brows. The problem looked mainly correct, but the final result was somehow wrong.

"There. It's five times four, not two times four." He mumbled, giving back the exercise to Scott. The boy took it laughing awkwardly.

"Thank you, Vinny." He said, giving his hand a friendly squeeze.

Another thing about Scott was, he gave nicknames.

xxx

Three hours, and he felt growing steadily attached to the clumsy boy. Scott was friendly, easygoing and sincere as fuck, all things that he rarely encountered in people he knew.

Oh, and he gave hugs.

Warm, nice hugs a boa constrictor would be envious of.

Vincent loved them.

There was only one problem. One little problem called "schizophrenia & co".

He hadn't told him, and he didn't want to, to be honest.

If his own parents were so awkward with him because of that, what would've the grey-eyed boy said?

He didn't want to know.

xxx

Two days, and he knew that he wanted, _needed_ Scott's friendship.

But he couldn't bring himself to tell him his secret.

xxx

A week, and Scott asked him about his parents. He was curious, because he had noticed the stares the two adults gave him when they came to take him home after school.

That wasn't a question he wanted to answer.

If his parents met him, they would surely mention what he _didn't_ want them to mention.

To change the subject, he asked him about his own parents.

It was the first time he saw the cheerful boy frown.

xxx

A month, and everything he had carefully built shattered.

That day, he forgot his meds.

he held Scott desperately as he sobbed, prey of his hallucinations. And he sobbed after they had left too, babbling everything he had been silent about, because he knew that his friend would leave him, now that he had seen him like that.

He opened his eyes again only when he felt the lean arms of his friend hugging him back.

He looked up, only to see Scott's grey eyes looking back at him, warmer than ever.

"I will remind you to take your medicines. I don't like you like this." He said with a smile.

xxx

Three years, and much had changed: Scott had had a growth spurt: from the short boy he'd been before he'd grown into a kid much taller than the average. Vincent had put aside some of his hesitations with people, and had become much friendlier, and didn't fear his illnesses as much as before.

Much things had changed, but not their bond.

And it would just grow stronger.

(Little did Vincent know, Scott had always been great at Math).

* * *

A/N: This is really, _really_ shippy but, eeeeh, what'cha doing about it.

(Scott frowns because in my headcanon, his relationship with his parents, really conservative and religious people, is tense, since my Scott is agnostic, vaguely communist and asexual biromantic. Even at eight year old, Scott had doubts about how legit were the church's teachings, and his parents weren't happy with it).


End file.
